


the man and the woman

by whitencise



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Beaches, F/M, Love, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Original Character - Freeform, Original Character(s), Psychopath, beach, philosophical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitencise/pseuds/whitencise





	the man and the woman

Head turned to the side, she was on the ledge. A perfect imprisonment, immaculate was almost an understatement. Her hair was gently being lifted by the wind as if it were a human hand playing with her hair, and the wind eventually completely blocked her face but she didn't care. She thought it was the man playing with her hair. The waves crashed in some kind of intriguing roaring silence. Every time someone stares at those waves, it's quiet. But the boring quiet entranced her with those ideas. She didn't notice the wave's repetitive yet subtle splash of salty water slowly becoming encrusted into her shoulder length hair. She was too busy imagining him next to her and all the things that never happened. All the things that could happen to make the moment perfect. She was so sickly in love with the man that she never realized the man was a soul stealer, and an un-remorseful liar. Instead, he savored the pleasure he received from building up intimate moments to where he could break up with the girl and see the look of paralysis on her face. It overwhelmed him with joy and consumed him as the beauty of the beach swept over anything and everything. Come one, come all, come see it and you'd never believe it. Girls, to him, acted in a certain manner. They could never hurt anyone-- instead they stayed frozen and filled with doubt. So, he played that out on her, as usual. This time, his stomach jumped but he tried and remained calm, it was only a dream, right? Days passed, he didn't believe he was worthy of conversing with women anymore, let alone even look at them. It all snapped, exuberance felt like it was lurking in every corner. The chaos in his mind that soon settled in was one that stretched on for ages, giving him waves of unpleasant feelings. This moment emerged him headfirst into a reality that has been unpleasantly welcomed. These new additions, or feelings, in his mind had apparently taken him worlds away from the old friend whose name was reality. The place where he is going to scream and cry, where it will have gotten so repetitive to the point of it tiring him out, God knows what he was doing before. Falling victim to fantasy, his mind won over itself. Goodness had coated world, for once, but now it was gone. He could now, truthfully, be described as an off-putting man who could never rewind. The man was dumped in infinite shame and shattered into a million lost pieces of broken glass. The so called “psychopath” was unsafe with himself, for he was a ticking time bomb- waiting his impulses to come sweep him away like no other. To him, satisfaction was now not felt when looking at the damage he had caused. He knew he loved her, he felt like he was a leech attached to her heart. Yet at the same time, he felt bored of the girl. The “psychopath” got licked by the feeling of what hurt felt like- not what it looked like. He felt hollow, there was no feeling inside of him for quite a while. Everything felt bland and boring, he felt no emotion. He felt as if he were a piece of paper balancing against a wall-- nothing happens to the paper at all, unless something disturbs the paper. If it received a slight touch from anything, the entire paper would fall to the floor. He couldn't feel anything at all and once he thought about the girl, he exploded. He felt everything at once like the ending of a fireworks show on the Fourth of July. Bright colors painted the starless black sky, except they were not bright. It made him feel like a mess, a cruel mess. He hopes for the girl to miss him the same way he's missing her. The man felt like he was going crazy, he realized everything he'd ever done to every girl finally caught up to him. He felt shaky and on edge, never realizing how bad his desire to hurt was. However, it felt like this girl in particular crawled into his soul and sat with it, offering it support. But he's on his own now because he's too guilty to find another. And he said, “The more I think about your name, the less it starts meaning to me. I’m terrified of falling off this ledge of hope you gave me, for I never wanted to fall into an unknown territory. But this is my own mind nibbling at itself, the more I think, the sharper the bites feel. It feels like there’s blood falling onto my face-- as I feel a cool drop of something scurrying down my face. I never wanted to love you and I wanted to say I’m doing fine without this but that’s simply a lie.”  **And with that, my friends, was the day when the psychopath realized he had collided with love.**

She desperately strived for perfection. Brainwashed to be better than everyone else, to her it seemed like a dream to actually be better than her peers. Insecurities nonchalantly flutter into the situation, though they had nothing to do with this concept. Nevertheless, her insecurities grasped and dragged her helplessly into the spiral of dissatisfaction. Her self destructing ways can never be overcome due to the constant display of beauty. If flowers were put in lungs, they would look very pretty but it would make it hard to breathe. It leaves an unrealistic perception to anything and everything that is being done. All she ever wanted was a superficial finish. On the other hand, the perfect people still crave something more than perfection which can only lead to insanity. What’s going on in their head: a never ending argument of people crying and ripping themselves apart to a thousand pieces only to be brushed away soothingly because nobody seemed to care about anyone else but themselves because they craved perfection. But if the entire world was naturally perfect, she would no longer have to put effort into anything. Could that mean there is no such thing as the beauty of motivation anymore? She would have to put that no effort into anything anymore because it automatically reached her standards like a factory placing a sticker onto the lipstick bottle. Could there perhaps be something bigger and better than perfection? 

A never ending war to just get that final sweet drop of unrealistic beauty and satisfaction just like she reached for the final bit of unnecessary ice cream at the bottom of your cup-- it’s your decision. But perfection had been discreetly woven into everything that she did. To show something you may or may not have realized, you want your wimpy little middle and high school reputation to be spotless. But where’s that self confidence that everyone thinks that you have? The confidence that you long for to find in yourself? This is where you start inching away from having independence. You long for the friends that can build you up and give you that motivation that you oh so desperately need. Or maybe your little world is perfect the way it is. Maybe you don’t want it to ever change. Change, however, is a very unavoidable factor to life. We are so afraid of change because you can never predict what can happen. It may happen when you least expect it. Instead of being productive, we choose to let our emotions take over like a wave rushes over the water and blends with the water. The waves come over and over again, it’s so normalized and insignificant that no one would like to pay attention to it. They might watch this from afar though, not trying to interfere. With this, she said , “Everything felt wrong in that moment. My mind is drifting away from everything including her, maybe our connection is over. There are too many things that could easily happen to end us, yet so many unfinished things between us. I shake it off and inch away from my shabby little house in the moonlight with my car. Where I live, the air is so polluted and thick that the moon cannot pierce through the air and shed its light upon the plain dark sky. Drives at night reminded me of what we used to be. The way I couldn't take my eyes off you. Your hair was very short but you were looking down and it did that thing where it flopped over to hide your eyes and show a bit of your nose and lips. I was so distracted on you that I didn’t realize that I was driving in the wrong direction-- I felt embarrassed. My only option was to change direction-- The car swerved and it almost felt like it was in slow motion, I felt a little scared but we were fine. I looked at you and your usually bland eyes filled with hate. Though you apologized to me for being mad, I didn’t expect an apology because you were so easily angered. Then pulled me in all of a sudden and whispered something inaudible in my ear, your warm breath down my neck made it impossible for me to ignore it. I didn’t know what you said, it felt good. You were trying to rewind what you did. I could feel your body heat and almost hear your heart beating. It felt like nothing ever needed to exist. This was all I ever needed. My stomach dropped so hard and my heart was beating when you fell onto my lap and I stroked your hair. I stared up at the sky and saw the swirls of gray clouds in the air-- more smog. The moon could finally shine through it a little, it left a white outline of light around every swirl and bounced off of every exit sign. And it was silent, we were waiting- for nothing in particular. That night, when you broke up with me, was unbelievable. It never felt like this could be real, we shared so many memories. Give me those feelings again.”


End file.
